


Welcome to Goodneighbor

by Veloxa



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-03 04:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veloxa/pseuds/Veloxa
Summary: Escaping from trouble, Reyn manages to find herself in the Commonwealth. Settling into Goodneighbor, trouble manages to catch up with her--in more than one way. Dangers lurk around every corner and for one young woman who's determined to take care of herself and just herself, she finds that's not as easy as she'd hope. Finding herself indebted to the Mayor, Hancock, a strange relationship forms between them.





	1. Prologue

Reyn scurried down the street as fast as she could, stumbling between the old, rusted out frames of vehicles and other debris. With one hand clutching a ten millimeter, she constantly looked over her shoulder as she zig zagged, keeping an eye out for someone, or possibly something. Her other hand clutched her side, where a pool of deep crimson blossomed through the fabric of her shirt. Tiny rivulets of blood flowed out between her fingers and dropped onto her pants as she ran. Her breathing was haggard, each draw inward met with a quick, sharp gasp of pain.

_“Just a little further…”_ She encouraged herself in her mind. _“Almost at Goodneighbor. Just… a little further.”_

Not that she was likely to be that much safer in Goodneighbor, but at least she wouldn’t be a sitting duck for ferals or super mutants. She might even be in luck and be able to find a medic of some sort. At the very least though, she’d be able to pause and patch herself up, maybe catch a little bit of rest so she could replenish the blood she’d lost.

Reyn’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of bullets peppering a nearby car. She started a bit and kicked up her pace, checking over her shoulder to see if she could get a visual on who was shooting. As she stumbled into an open area, she finally caught a glimpse of her pursuers. They weren’t too far behind, and were smart enough to stay hidden behind some vehicles and building debris.

Things were getting a little hazy for Reyn, the amount of pain and blood loss taking a toll on her higher processes. It took her a moment, but she formulated a sort of plan, taking cover behind a nearby decrepit mail deposit box just as a bullet went whizzing past her head. Aiming with the pistol in her hand, she fired a volley of bullets at the tank of one of the cars nearest her attackers.

Her maneuver paid off as a spark ignited and before long, the undercarriage of the vehicle began to glow orange with fire and smoke billowed upwards. Her pursuers began to scatter, but not fast enough. As they ran for cover, the fuel still left inside the car ignited and caused a large explosion, sending shrapnel and debris flying everywhere.

Before there was a chance for them to recover, Reyn scurried out of her hiding spot and made a beeline for the direction of Goodneighbor. The entrance was within sight and with one painful breath in, she burst through, slamming the door behind her. She gripped at her side harder as she fought to catch her breath, blood now freely pooling in and around her hand. Swearing under her breath, she stood herself up as best she could and shambled forward, towards the “town” center.

As she wobbled onward, her footing gave way beneath her for a split second, causing her to topple forward. Fortunately she didn’t collide with the ground, not so fortunately, it was a Goodneighbor native, who didn’t seem too pleased to have an “Outsider” stumble into him. Sneering down at the much smaller framed woman, the leather clad individual grabbed Reyn by the collar of her shirt and pulled her up to eye level.

“Filthy outsider.” He growled with a gravely voice. “Better watch where you’re going, might end up in a ditch.”

It was less of a warning and more of a threat, and despite her pain and the growing haze in her brain, Reyn wasn’t about to take it. Hand still clutching her ten millimeter, she thrust it against the man’s gut and narrowed her eyes, focusing on him as best she could.

“If you’re leading.” She pressed the muzzle harder into his ribcage, a devil-may-care smirk on her lips. The man grit his teeth and let her go, and she tumbled to the ground with a grunt. The pistol in her grasp skittered away on the gravel as she fell, falling outside her reach.

“You filthy little whore…” Quickly the leather bound man reached down to grab the pistol and aimed it at Reyn as she attempted to sit herself up. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a hand came down and grabbed his wrist.

It was no ordinary hand either, the skin an unnatural reddish-tan, knotted and decrepit. It was almost possible to see the structure of the bones under what was considered flesh. Reyn’s eyes trailed up the hand to the arm, and finally onto the figure of the appendage’s owner himself. Clad in a old fashioned red coat, a tricorn hat perched upon his leathery head, stood a rather impressive ghoul.

“That’s enough, Finn.” The voice, though soft, carried a venomous undertone to it. Without much hesitation, the man called Finn grumbled again and lowered the pistol, tossing it back at Reyn. “Now get lost. You know the rules.”

Growling, Finn walked away, muttering dark obscenities under his breath. The ghoul’s dark eyes settled on Reyn, who had managed to only prop herself up partially. Crouching down, he offered a hand out to her.

 

“Welcome to Goodneighbor.”


	2. Chapter 2

But Reyn couldn’t see more than a blur of colors surrounding her and the welcoming voice was nothing more than a garbled noise as she finally succumbed to blood loss and pain. The world around her grew dark and her strength gave out, collapsing on the dirty pavement.

When she awoke, she found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. Laid out on an old sofa, she took a quick survey of the area around her. A coffee table sat between her and another old, fraying sofa, covered with all manner of drug paraphernalia, papers, and other assorted junk. From what she could tell, she was inside some old pre-war building that had managed to hold up fairly decently–at least she assumed so.

Her shirt had been removed–likely so her wounds could be tended–and laid over her like a blanket. Quickly Reyn took a look around again and once certain that she was alone, pulled the shirt away to inspect the patch job. Some tattered cloth was wrapped around her midsection, holding gauze and bandages in place. As she reached down to peek underneath them, a voice broke the silence.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you…” Stepping into the room was the ghoul from earlier and a woman she hadn’t seen before. As the pair walked in, Reyn pulled her shirt back over herself and tried to sit up. The effort sent a shot of pain rippling through her body and she let out a hiss. “Or that either. Might rip your stitches open and start bleeding out again.”

“Hmph.” Reyn let out a soft huff and allowed herself to fall back onto the couch. “Got any smokes? I seem to have lost mine.”

There was a small chuckle from the ghoul as he tossed a pack of full cigarettes over to her. It landed gently on her chest and she picked it up, inspecting it for a quick second. Noting that it was unopened, she began to tap the top of the package roughly against her leg, packing the loose tobacco into the cigarettes. After about 10 or so taps, she flipped it right side up and opened the pack, slipping a cigarette between her lips.

“Got a light?”

There was another chuckle and nearby, she heard the flick of a lighter. Reyn turned her head towards the sound and the tip of her smoke was met by a small, red flame. She took a few puffs in to make sure it was properly lit and then let out a sigh of content as she exhaled.

“Thanks. Been jonesing for a proper smoke since I set out.” She took a long drag from the cigarette and exhaled again. “And uh… thanks for fixing me up too, I guess. Wasn’t expecting that from someone in Goodneighbor. At least not out of the kindness of their heart.”

“Yeah, well… call me a saint.” The ghoul plops himself onto the couch across from her, the woman he walked in with sitting down as well on the opposite end from him.

“Does the saint have a name, or should I just call you Saint Goodneighor?” She took another puff, smoke billowing from her nostrils as she exhaled again.

“Hancock.” He lifted a foot and rested it on the coffee table, reaching for a canister of Jet. “John Hancock, Mayor of Goodneighbor.”

Slowly a chuckle bubbled upward from Reyn’s chest. The chuckling grew in volume and intensity until she was in full blown hysterics, clapping her free hand to her forehead. Finally, after several long minutes and a few concerned, confused glances, Reyn took a deep breath, attempting to get herself under control.

“Fuck, that hurt.” She coughs once or twice, grabbing at her bandages. Taking several deep breaths, she manages to control her laughter for a brief moment before letting out a few more giggles. “Of fucking  _course_  the mayor saved my ass.  _OF COURSE_.”

“Uhh…” Hancock pauses after a huff of jet and blinks a few times. “Maybe it’s because the drugs haven’t hit yet, but I don’t understand what’s funny?”

“I’m sorry,” she huffs a few times and catches her breath. “It’s just… my fucking luck. Out of the frying pan….” Slowly she pushes herself up into a sitting position despite the pain. “So let’s hear it. What do I owe you?”

“… Owe… me?” Hancock blinks slowly as the woman beside him arches a brow and shrugs.

“Yes. Owe you. As in, what do you want for patching me up? And the smokes?” She waves her pack around even as she pulls another one out.

“Just get better.” Hancock shrugs and takes a puff of jet. “You got a real shitty welcome, and that’s not how I like to run things. So consider this my apology and welcoming gift.”  

Reyn stares at him suspiciously, even as a freshly lit cigarette dangled from her lips. Carefully, she pulled her shirt back on, buttoning it shut. She lets herself recline with a grimace, puffing a few more times.

“Uh huh. Saint Hancock…” Reyn stares up at the ceiling, from the tone of her voice, not even remotely convinced. “Tell me then Saint, where can a gal like me find a place to shack up for a few nights?”


	3. Chapter 3

“You can crash here for a bit until you’ve healed up.” Draping his arms along the back of the sofa, sinking into it, Hancock gestured to the woman beside him. “Me ‘n Fahrenheit will keep an eye on ya, make sure no one tries to heckle you.”

“I don’t think so.” Her gaze resettles on Hancock, who meets her eyes with a quizzical quirk of his brow. Before he can speak, Reyn cuts him off. “It’s bad enough that I’m indebted to you already, I’m not going to go adding on to it.”

“Sister, you can barely move. Where the hell do you think you’re going to go?” He asks, with a sweeping motion of one of his arms.

“I managed to make it here, didn’t I? I can walk a few hundred feet to a motel or something.” Reyn huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, albeit painfully.

“Hopped up on shock and adrenaline. And you nearly died in the process. Or did you miss that part?” He quips, taking another hit of Jet.

“There are ways around that.” She retorts, glancing about the table. Spotting a bottle, she tried to lurch forward to grab it, only to immediately freeze and hiss in pain, falling back into the couch. She grabs at her injury, grimacing as a small spot of blood began to seep through the material of her shirt.

“See what you’ve gone and done?” Hancock clicks his tongue, head shaking. Snapping his fingers, he points at Fahrenheit and then the door. “Go get the good doctor, would you?”

With a soft huff, Fahrenheit puts out her cigarette and struts towards the door. As her figure disappears down the spiral staircase, Hancock fixes his gaze on Reyn again, a frown of disapproval tugging at what used to be his lips.

“Look, I don’t know what your deal is, and I’m not asking you to tell me. But the fact of the matter is, if you don’t stay on that couch and let yourself heal up a bit, you’re going to bleed out. Or get an infection. Or both.” He leans forward, tossing the empty jet cylinder onto the table. “You don’t want to be in my debt? Fine. Start paying it off by getting better. Not going to be able to do anything by dying.” Reyn fixes him with a cold stare, flopping herself onto her uninjured side on the couch. With an almost haughty tone, Hancock leans back again and comments, “That’s what I thought.”

“Fuck you.” Reyn spits, eyes narrowed with rage.

“Sure. Once you’re all healed up, we can do whatever you want.” A crooked grin settled itself on Hancock’s face. Just as Reyn was about to retort, Fahrenheit knocked on the wooden frame of the doorway to announce her return.

Alongside her, a darker skinned woman with black hair stepped into the room. Upon setting her sights on Reyn, she let out a sigh that sounded almost like disbelief. Carrying a bag with her, she settled herself on the edge of the couch.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Amari. You were out cold last time we met.” She opened her medical bag, pulling out a stethoscope, settling it around her neck. “I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable, but I need you to remove your shirt so I can properly treat your injury.”

“That’s fine.” Reyn murmurs, fingers clumsily unbuttoning her shirt. The skin underneath was dirty and marred by at least a half dozen scars. Pulling her arms out of her sleeves, at least another dozen scars were revealed, along with something that looked akin to a brand on her upper right arm. Exposed once again, she turned her gaze away from the doctor and stared at the wall.

“Let me know if you experience any pain that’s too much for you.” Dr Amari glanced up at her quickly before reaching out to begin her work. Slowly she peeled away the gauze that had been covering the open wound. Pulling out some cotton swabs and a cleansing solution, Amari began to carefully clean away blood and dirt that had collected around the site.

Reyn let out a small hiss, hands clenching at the cushions beneath her. Her gaze remained locked onto the wall beside her, jaw flexing as she clenched and unclenched with pain. The doctor stopped for a moment, making sure it was safe to continue before finishing her task of cleaning the injury up. Now fully clear, it was easier to see where Reyn had torn her stitching.

“This next part is going to hurt quite a bit.” Amari cautioned, grabbing Reyn’s attention. “Would you like something to numb it?”

Reyn’s gaze shifted over to where Hancock was sitting, Fahrenheit posed with arms crossed behind him. Her gaze drifted down to the coffee table and then over to the nearby counters and tables.

“There.” She pointed to a bottle. “Just grab me that bottle of Whiskey, that’ll do.”

“As a medical professional, I should warn you–”

“Doc.” Reyn cut her off with a hard look. “I’ve been in worse scraps than this. Without medical attention. Just hand me the booze and I’ll be fine.”

Dr Amari lets out a defeated sigh, gesturing for one of the other two to fetch the bottle. Within moments, the bottle of whiskey–held out by Hancock’s hand–is dangling just a few inches away from her face. Reyn quickly snatches it up and downs a quarter of the contents in just a few gulps.

“Ugh.” She grimaces and a shudder runs down her spine. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Hand me a smoke and patch me up, doc.”


End file.
